In 1986, The Denver Post invited its readers to share some Christmas memories. The stories submitted were sweet and funny, or sad and memorable, but all were touching in the way one might see a family scene through a window at twilight.

One story was sent in by reader Julia Tapia, age 70, of Denver. The Post ran a photo of her with her sister, Mela Solano (at right in photo above), with whom she baked empanadas each year as their family tradition.

Here is Julia’s Christmas memory:

“I don’t remember doing much for Christmas until the year I turned 7. It was 1923 and we lived in Vaughn, a small town in New Mexico where children didn’t know about things like Santa Claus.
Spanish families has different customs in those times.

“All that changed one evening in early December. My mother was cooking the evening meal over an old pot-bellied stove when my father came home from his job as a laborer for the railroad.

“He changed into a freshly starched shirt and tugged on his familiar, dark suspenders. Then, he joined us children. We were five then: my brother Jake was 11, Frances was 9, I was 7, Mela was 5 and Emma was 3. I remember my father’s face that night. He looked tired from the day’s work, but his eyes twinkled as if he had a secret he couldn’t wait to tell.

“After dinner, he got out the Montgomery Ward catalog that my mother used to order material for our clothes. She made them without a pattern by cutting the cloth while she looked at the pictures. But on this night, my father didn’t look at cloth. He turned to the toy section and said we’d better put in our order to Santa Claus.

“Well, we didn’t even know who Santa Claus was! There was no radio or television in those days to tell children he would come on Christmas if they were good. My father told us Santa Claus would come down the chimney of the stove on Christmas Eve and leave us presents. I remember how we all sat at the kitchen table looking at that catalog.

“Oh, there were so many beautiful things to choose from! Jake wanted a play farm set and Frances asked for a sewing kit because she liked to embroider. My two younger sisters wanted the same dolls.

“But I saw this beautiful porcelain doll with jointed hands and curly brown hair. She even had green eyes made of real marbles that closed so she could sleep. I always wished I had light eyes like my mother’s, which were hazel. Bue mine are dark brown. So, the minute I saw that doll, I knew I wanted her and nothing else.

…

“Christmas Eve finally came and we had to keep our own traditions. Because Vaughn was so small, the priest only came once a month, so we couldn’t go to midnight Mass like we do today. But my mother sang Noche de Paz (‘Silent Night’) in our living room and we all joined in as we bundled up to go ask for oremos (an old custom where children go door to door singing in exchange for treats).

“Later we made empanadas (stuffed pastries). My father would bring home the coal and the meat and in those days you didn’t have oil, so we had to use lard. My job was grinding the beef tongue for the filling.

“After we finished, all the girls put on new flannel nightgowns my mother had made for us. We were so tired from the excitement, but we giggled and worried about whether Santa Claus would really come. We tried to stay awake and wait for him. But then morning came and we’d been sleeping and missed him.

“We ran to the living room and saw that what my father told us was true: Santa had come in the night!

“And there was my beautiful doll!

“When I think about my father and how he brought us Santa Claus, I feel so much love for him, just remembering these things and knowing how wonderful he tried to make our childhood.”

The Denver Post story, which ran on December 21, 1986, went on to note:

Julia Tapia, a widow and parishioner at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church, has four children, 10 grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. She moved to Denver in 1944 and was a domestic worker for 25 years. She still makes empanadas for Christmas.

One day in 1947, a young and virtually unknown artist arrived at the Denver Post. He showed some of his watercolors to the staff of the art department. The staff recognized a big talent when it saw one, and the delicate, desert-hued colors of the paintings were immediately featured in The Denver Post.

Navajo artist Harrison Begay, 29, had arrived, all right, and he was on his way to the big time. Begay was to become one of the most noted artists of his generation.

The painting at top, done “expressly for publication in THE POST,” as the accompanying story pointed out, was selected for its themes and beautiful colors, all the better shown off in The Post’s rotogravure pages.

It was signed, of course:

Post writers were taken with the young artist, who they learned had been born in Greasewood Springs, Arizona in 1917 and had begun drawing with pencil and charcoal as a child.

They also learned he was a battle-hardened veteran of the Normandy beachhead and other World War II campaigns in Europe. He served in the U.S. Army Signal Corps in Iceland, England, France and Czechoslovakia before his honorable discharge in 1945. He returned home to Santa Fe and then came to Denver to enroll in a radio technician’s school. Even though he hadn’t painted during his years in Europe (there was a war on, remember?), Begay took up his paintbrushes once again and turned his eye to the things he loved best, the Navajo people and animals of the Southwest.

Harrison Begay at The Denver Post in 1947.

“With considerable pride, The Post presents to its readers the work of this young artist…”

And so his paintings were published. These, even seen in black & white, have an elegance to them that became one of Harrison Begay’s hallmarks.

The work of Harrison Begay.

The buffalo hunt.

Riders.

At one time, he had been a student of Dorothy Dunn of the Santa Fe Indian School, but was largely self-taught. Today, his paintings can be worth thousands of dollars.

The candles are lit. The wine is poured. The Thanksgiving guests are happily assembled at table.

The main event is about to arrive. But oh, the stress of carving him up properly! Forget watching an online video and hark back to 1992, when the Denver Post helpfully offered the graphic above to assist turkey carvers everywhere. Looks easy, doesn’t it?

As a further aid to your holiday prep, try this simple Pecan-Rice Stuffing dish that can be made without butter (by using a butter substitute or oil) to satisfy vegetarians and vegans in the family:

Pecan-Rice Turkey Stuffing

Our own food editor, Helen Dollaghan trotted these very items out in November, 1992 as a Southern twist on the usual holiday fare. She credited their adaptation from a book called, “Gourmet’s Holidays and Celebrations” (Random House; $25 — in 1992).

Here is her offering for Turkey-giblet Tabasco Gravy, which Helen advised “is especially compatible with the rice stuffing:”

Turkey-Giblet Tabasco Gravy

Long-time cooks and readers of The Denver Post inevitably think of Helen Dollaghan on holidays. Her recipes and food columns were avidly read by cooks all over the state. We get requests today for many of her recipes.

This week, record-breaking cold temperatures are descending on Denver, making weather wonks scratch their heads in wonder — we are colder than it was on this date in 1916!

On November 12, 1916, The Denver Post remarked on the weather, airily imparting handy driving advice:

November 12, 1916 story.

The story proceeds to warn drivers of danger on two bridges on the road to Brighton, “one has a railing broken off and the other has a hole in its floor. Drive slowly and carefully over them.”

It goes on. “The Arvada and Broomfield roads are fair, but slippery. They were pretty rough before the storm, and the snow probably hasn’t improved them a great deal.”

Oh, how very helpful! But it gets better:

“Don’t start out without chains. No one can vouch for the condition of the roads far from the city. The mountain passes are probably pretty bad.”

But on the following day, Monday, November 13, 1916, the hard facts had been established, and our story relayed the bad weather news from far and wide.

November 13, 1916 cold wave story.

The low temperatures recorded from various western locations are detailed. Denver’s low is given as minus 3 degrees, not quite jibing with modern weatherkeepers’ records of 4 below 0. Then, for comparison, the story cites previous weather thrills:

“…Denver is not quite as badly off as it was on Nov. 7, 1880, when it was 14 below, or on Nov. 18, 1880, when it was 12 below. In 1882 it was 2 below on Nov. 12. The coldest of recent years in early November was on Nov. 11, 1911, when it was 2 below. A year ago today it was 26 above.”

The astonishing display of hand-made poppies that surrounds the Tower of London for Remembrance Day 2014 reminds the world of the 100 years that have passed since the start of World War I. Its 888,246 ceramic poppies commememorate the life of each Commonwealth soldier lost in that conflict. Artist Paul Cummins, who calls his work “Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red” will place the final poppy on November 11.

Over the last 100 years, the poppy has become the symbol of the ultimate sacrifice made by combatants in war. Its symbolism arose from the presence of the wild flowers lining roads and battlefields of France, further endorsed by the words in the poem “In Flanders Fields” by Canadian officer John McCrae.

Initially, silk poppies were sold to raise funds for French children traumatized by the war. The American-Franco Children’s League used poppy-sale proceeds for medical care, hospitals and recuperation homes. In 1921, The Denver Post’s own Polly Pry (Mrs. Leonel Ross O’Bryan) was the director of the regional headquarters, located in the Symes building. The Post’s story ran May 15, 1921:

1921 Denver Post story.

After the Great War, America and France designated May 28 as Poppy Day, when the hand-made flowers would be worn to remember those lost. Then on the traditional Memorial Day, May 30, they were to be placed on the graves of the dead.

American children also made poppies as early as the first World War. Orphanages were hives of activity where paper poppies were fashioned by the thousands. Below is an archive image showing girls in the Queen of Heaven Orphanage in Denver making paper flowers in 1921.

Orphans making poppies in Denver.

The American Legion Auxiliary was tapped by the American Legion to lead its Poppy Program in 1924. And in the early 1920s, the Veterans of Foreign Wars adopted the poppy and began its Buddy Poppy (a registered trademark) program to raise funds for wounded and disabled veterans. Below, two Denver ladies representing the American Legion Auxiliary, at left, and the VFW Auxiliary, right, prepare to sell poppies in 1963.

Poppies for sale

On this November 11, 2014, the words of Lt.Col. McCrae, written in 1915, will be read all over the world:

IN FLANDERS FIELDS
by John McCrae

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow,
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky,
The larks, still bravely singing, fly,
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead.
Short days ago,
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved and now we lie,
In Flanders Fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe
To you, from failing hands, we throw,
The torch, be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us, who die,
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow,
In Flanders Fields.

On August 12-13, 1961, the Berlin Wall was born. It appeared literally overnight. Barbed wire was strung across the border between East and West Berlin, cutting off access either way. Workers were cut off from their well-paid jobs in West Berlin. Families were prevented from gathering together. There was no more open passage from the Communist East Berlin to its free, wealthy and growing counterpart, West Berlin.

The Wall snakes past Brandenburg Gate

The wall grew over the years to a monolith of concrete bulkheads that symbolized The Cold War most effectively. Decades passed. Many people died trying to climb over or run past checkpoints to freedom.

A sentry watches from East Berlin.

But on November 9, 1989, it crumbled. It was an almost impossible-to-comprehend event after such defiant and pugnacious stance by the Communist government of Eastern Germany. U.S. President Ronald Reagan had visited the wall in 1987 and famously declared, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!” Unrest in other Communist block countries offered people a sliver of hope.

Abruptly there was a public announcement that the checkpoints of East Berlin were open to passage. Citizens were disbelieving. Guards allowed them to pass unharmed into West Berlin!

The joyful populace of East Berlin joined its Western supporters in chipping, then breaking away the wall, tearing it down piece by piece.

Berliners break down The Berlin Wall in 1989.

It all happened 25 years ago this week — the fall of the Berlin Wall. Below, a young generation of East and West Berliners mingled atop the symbol of Berlin, the Brandenburg Gate to enjoy new-found freedom.

Fashion designer Oscar de la Renta, known for the opulence and elegance of his creations, was a favorite of Denver society ladies and their charities. His designs, when the focus of fund-raising fashion shows, raised money for the Central City Opera Association, the National Jewish Center for Immunology and Respiratory Medicine and the Samaritan House for the homeless.

Denver Post clip files show local press coverage.

In the 1981 photo at top, Mrs. Gerald Altman, left, wears a gold lame gown and Mrs. S. Charles Tobias poses in a black satin skirt with belted blouse. Oscar de la Renta fashions were staples of long-time Denver stores such as Montaldo’s and Neusteters. Trunk shows at the shops, featuring his collections, were popular. The manager of Montaldo’s in 1986 explains, “If a woman loves a certain color — fuschia, for instance, or navy — she can come in and review the whole collection, just like the story buyer does in New York. If she happens to love purple polka dots, she might be able to find it at the trunk shows but not on the rack.” The same story goes on to say prices for Oscar de la Renta designs ranged from $400 to $14,000… in 1986.

An index card from the archives of The Denver Post shows the newspaper covered his career starting in 1967 when he was awarded a coveted fashion award.

A Denver Post index card.

One brief news clipping mentions that Oscar de la Renta met his first wife, Francoise de Langlade, then editor of French Vogue, at a dinner party for the Duke and Duchess of Windsor at Maxim’s in Paris in 1965, early in his career. He seemed destined for great things. The Denver Post covered each season’s new collection with the fervor appropriate for such a star.

Denver Post news clippings.

Oscar de la Renta, who died at his home in Connecticut on October 20 at the age of 82, will also be remembered as the designer who gave a welcome new look to another group of customers. In 1980, he designed for the Boy Scouts of America its first new uniform since 1922:

Every autumn, as colleges and high schools assembled their best football talent for the gridiron challenges ahead, time was carved out of practices to allow the media its day on the field. News photographers showed up to take team photos and single out the stars for portraits.

These classic football poses were imaginative shots where unusual angles were sought to highlight the player’s best attributes, be it speed, bulk or hands.

Darrell Royal played for University of Oklahoma 1946-49.

A look back at some of these from The Denver Post archives also shows the evolution of football equipment. Note the roomy helmets, lace-up boots, small shoulder pads and scrunchy socks.

Colorado College player “Handy” Andy Gambucci originally arrived from Minnesota to play hockey in 1949.

Below, the son of famous coach Knute Rockne, Knute Rockne Jr., strikes a vigorous pose. He was also famous for running with his tongue hanging out, as most of his gridiron photos show.

Knute Rockne Jr. in 1935 played for the Miami Military Academy team.

Below, Harry Stuhldreher, a three-time All American and famous quarterback at the University of Notre Dame was one of the “Four Horsemen” of the undefeated Notre Dame eleven from 1922-24. He was one of the smallest quarterbacks there at 5’7″ and 151 lbs. He went on to a coaching career at Villa Nova College at the highest starting salary ever paid a coach by that Philadephia institution.

One of the ‘Four Horsemen’ of Notre Dame, Harry Stuhldreher in 1924.

Though the sport is sleeker, more professional and faster today, it may just be a little less fun than it looks like these players were having. The same could be said for the hard-working photographers, whose jobs today are just as sleek, professional and fast-paced, and who had a ball capturing their prey in the good-old gridiron days of the past 90 years.

Below, a 1989 action shot of Notre Dame’s Tony Rice was taken by Denver Post photographer John Leyba who is still snapping gridiron shots today, albeit on the NFL scene now.

Tony Rice of Notre Dame in 1989. John Leyba photo

A special thanks to Denver Post photographer Joe Amon, who contributed to this post.

As the story goes, a fellow named Barney Flaherty was the first newspaper carrier for the New York Sun. But how’d you like to say your newspaper was delivered by Isaac Asimov? Or, perhaps James Cagney, Herbert Hoover or even Martin Luther King, Jr.?

NOV 4 1971: These two young newspaper vendors solve the problems of getting there first with the latest news … but their balance is so precarious they can’t stop for red lights. (Credit: AP)

All these fabulous gents, and some equally terrific women, have all held the once-heralded oft-first job of newspaper carrier.

Today is the day we all (or maybe just news junkies) celebrate National Newspaper Carrier Day. Yes, the newspaper carrier may seem like a thing of the past in today’s ‘print is dead; long live print’ era. But, as long as we are still printing copies, we will need people to deliver the news to those who still enjoy settling in with their morning paper and a hot cup of joe.

In 1887, the site of a new United States Army Post was selected near Denver, a city with railroads and transportation advantages. It was named Fort Logan, after John Alexander Logan, a U.S. Senator from Illinois who introduced legislation establishing the fort. He was also a general in the Union Army during the Civil War and is credited with establishing Decoration Day on May 30. We now know it as Memorial Day, a national holiday of remembrance.

Today, many historic buildings remain. The Field Officer’s Quarters, shown above in 1961, is the earliest building, constructed in 1889. Located at 3742 West Princeton Circle, the house is owned by the State of Colorado and maintained by the Friends of Historic Fort Logan, a non-profit organization dedicated to historic preservation and education.

The Field Officer’s Quarters was designed by architect Frank J. Grodavent and sited next to the 32-acre parade ground. The building was designed with six bedrooms and intended for occupation by a major or higher-grade officer and his family and servants. In 1990, the Denver City Council designated the building a historic landmark. It is also listed on the State Register of Historic Properties. Today, it houses a museum maintained by the Friends.

The Fort Logan National Cemetery was formed in 1950, taking in the original area of the Army cemetery first established in 1889. Each Memorial Day, it is the scene of memorial services with a flag placed on every grave.

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Historic Fort Logan Turns 125 years old
The Friends of Historic Fort Logan hope to bring awareness to the campus and to preserve the history of the Field Officer’s Quarters and all other historic buildings on Princeton Circle.
On Saturday, July 19, there is an open house at the museum from 1-4 p.m. with free admission.
3742 West Princeton Circle, Denver, Colorado 80236.
Museum Phone: 303-789-3568
Website: http://www.friendsofhistoricfortlogan.org